


Magnificent

by lenadenck



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-11 12:32:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15315579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenadenck/pseuds/lenadenck
Summary: Harry is the oldest child of the king and needs to take on the corwn when his dad dies tragically. Now, he hides from the pressure in the balcony of royal family's oficial painter: Louis Tomlinson.





	1. Olive Trees with the Alpilles in the Background

It was the first time in twenty four years he used a black suit. Media, in general, used to say that prince Harry had smoothed the rigidity that rouned the british royalty: since he was little, they let him wear colorful clothes.

By his own choice, he decided to be good and respectful and wear a dark suit to go to an event that represented his father.

-I had the great pleasure of being on my husband's life for twenty seven years that went as fast as the transition from day to night. - the queen mother, that wore the same dress she wore to burry her first child when she was only two months old, spoke into the microphone, in front of hundreds of cameras and people. - I and his three beautiful children have the honor to inaugurate the statue that honors and represents in details everything that king Desmond was for his people and his family.

Harry and his two sisters, equaly wearing black and already trained to hide their feelings when in public,pushed the flag that covered the statue that was a little bit taller than the father, with eyes sculpted to be as gentle as the man's. The head was looking foward, not as a superior, but as a humble person that had positive thoughts about their people.

It was perfect, almost identical to his so dear father. The only problem was that not even in a million years that statue would bring the man Harry most loved back to life.

The dumbets rule he still had to follow was the one that said he never, in any situation, could cry in public. All he wanted at that moment was to wrap his whole body around the mother's legs and cry for hours, with exagerated sobs and maybe some words throwed in the wind, in order to convince himself that all of it was actually happening: his father was dead and he would need to be half of the king his dad was to receive any respect from the british people.

-You have to be strong if you want to beon a statue like this one day, Harry. - his mother whispered, while waving her hands to the last photos that were being taken. - You have to be strong and you have to make England become as colorful as you. 

With the mother's last words, they were taken to the black car that waited for them right beside invasive photographers from the press. Harry had to hold the twins on his lap in order for them not to be pushed into exclusive pictures. People were in love with royal children, but Harry remmebered when he was his sisters' age and had to live with people making fake stories about simple babies, just to get some space into the local, national and international press.

-You know, Harry, it is a little gratifying that at least some people actually cared about your father. - Anne spoke, taking off the hat that covered her almost white hair while they didn't arrive in the palace. - I lived with him for so many years I had the oportunity to meet people that saw him as a great father and friend as well as a great leader. I don't know if you are able to remember, but Desmond was really good at making children smile.

-Yes, mama. I do remember, very well. - the prince said, with a simple voice that showed exactly everything he was forbidden to show. 

-What are your first plans? - the mother asked, taking the oldest son's attention. - As a king, I mean. They expect big changes, son. I want you to know that soon I will lose my titles, but I will forever have the title of your mother.

Harry smiled, showing the perfect teeth that got the press' atention one day or another, when he took some girl for a walk and everyone started making gossip about the new princess.

-Do you think I will have to marry soon? - he asked, finally. Marriages were, in theory, beautiful, great and simbolic, but they were actually just a lot of paper work. - Do you think I will have to marry a woman soon?

The queen mother smiled, with the fondness she always showed to her children, while one of the girls let her little legs rest on the mother's lap. 

-The rules are changing, my dear. You will have to ask for my permission to get married, but soon you will be a king and you really need to pick whoever will be your princess. The coronation will be in a few months, maybe until then you can pick whoever will be your prince?

Prince Harry smiled with the possibility, admiring the affection mother felt, even being capable to ignore law and religion only to see the future king truly happy.

hey arrived at the palace after a few minutes, a moment that was well-marked by Anne putting on her hat and kissing the son's right cheek. 

-Your Highness? - the long haired boy heard the secretary's voice while heading into his bedroom. - I should warn you, sir, have a meeting with Mr. Tomlinson, for the preparation to the coronation painting.

-Why do we still have to make paintings, Mel? There are so many new technologies, my coronation will be seen in the whole world and I still have to go to that old man's house? - Melanie opened the doors to the prince's bedroom. - Please, do come in.

The bedroom was always decorated simply, as Harry never felt really confortable with big rooms like his cousins' our sisters'. The bed was marked by the cream colour and the blue pillows. Harry loved blue as he loved life and art. Above the bed, were all the paintings he ever made on his free time.

-Your Highness is in pure love with art, why do you deny to be the model to a new painting? - Melanie sat down in the blue chair, as she always did. 

The secretary was Harry's age and was the daughter of one of the cooks from the palace and, as they grew up together, Harry never got used to treating her as an employee but as a great friend. She had long hair and dark blue eyes. She was always dressed as if her work was much more than it actually was.

-I admire the idea of being in a painting, yes. But not one from Mr. Tomlinson. The last time I went there, he was already an old man and called me 'little one'. - Harry took all of his clothes off right in front of his friend, while selecting one of his pink pajamas. - I was never a big fan of titles, Mel, but being called 'little one' was too bad.

Melanie laughed, not high enough to be heard. She helped the future king put his pajamas on and touched his cheek.

-Your Highness, as you sir said, he was already old when you were a child. The person who is painting you is his son, Louis Tomlinson. 

-Oh! - the small, scared scream caused a fun giggle. - And how is this... Louis Tomlinson?

-He is twenty six, sir. - Melanie smiled. - Too old to portrait you with the realism of your youth?

Harry sat on the big bed, putting his shoes on again.

-And who cares about realism, Melanie!? - he got up with a theatrical jump, putting both of his hands around his own waist. - And when am I going to visit Mr. Tomlinson?

-In one hour and a half, Harry, - she whispered his name. - Try not to get too excited, but people say he never cared about realism as well.


	2. Wheaterfild under a Cloudy Sky

-Your Highness? - a blonde girl, with a focused look and large, pretty pants, spoke with such a lovely joy. - My brother is waiting in our dad's old room. Please, do come in.

-Thank you, dear. We will be in in just a second. - Harry replied, informal as he could be, without losing his respect. When the girl turned around and left a free way into the room, he turned to his secretary. - Why do you think she is acting with so much joy? She never met anyone like us? 

Melanie agreed using her headm smiling at being included into the british royalty by the use of words.

-i don't think she ever saw you, sir, to be precise. You arevery attractive, she could be a little nervous because of that. - she justified, holding the friend's arm before he entered the house. - I also got to know that the Tomlinson family lost lotsof money after the royal family stopped coming here for new paintings. As it seems to me, the queen mother is the only one who believes in the Tomlinson son as much as she believed in the father. She must be happy that they got back the customs. 

-In such a day I will be able to meet a fine young artist AND Help a whole family? It seems like a dream only made of improvements. - Harry spoke, taking of his shoes to enter the house and smile again at the girl. - Dear, would you mind in taking me to the room? I haven't been in here since I was a child, I am afraid I will probably get a little lost.

The blonde girl nodded, cleaning her hands from the paint.

-Please, Your Highness, pardon me for the lack of caprice. I have the service of finishing the paintings my father never did finish. I am Charlotte Tomlinson, it is a great please. 

Harry stretched his fine hand in her direction.

-It is our please, miss. I am Harry and this is my secretary, Melanie. - the two girls said hi to each other.

Charlotte guided the prince until the second floor, so he could recognize the big, dark room he was when he was a little kid. Now, instead of an old man, there was a boy with small back and messy hair sitting on the chair.

-Louis, the prince is here. - Charlotte caught his attention. - If you need something, I will be in the living room with your secretary, is it alright?

Harry nodded, with a smile full of teeth and joy.

When the young man finally turned to look at him, Harry could see that he was nothing like his father. He had a delicate face and light eyes. 

-Your Highness, delighted to meet you, sir, finally. Please, don't call me Mr. Tomlinson, call me Louis. - he got up from his chair as he finished talking. He was way shorter than the prince and his shoes made funny noises when he walked.

When he got closer, Harry could see that his nose and mouth were thin and had a little bit of yellow paint. He was lovely, but looked a thousand times stronger than Harry, even if he was his future king.

-I am also delighted, Louis. Please, call me Harry. We are probably going to spend a lot of time together until the coronation, I want you to forget formality. - he cleared, touching the artist's small hand before sitting into a chair.

-So, how would you like to start? Would you like me to paint a draft so you can figure out the differences between mine and my father's art? It is only going to take a minute. - Harry nodded. - Please, sir, do sit down in here.

The prince remembered this chair. He remembered sitting there for full hours wearing the same expression. So as soon as he sat down, he felt his posture become still and his face show his bad memories.

-Is something wrong? - Louis asked, getting on his knees to take the black pencil from the ground.

-I have been on this chair before. I do remember not being very happy while sitting on it. - Harry let go a fun giggle. 

-We can find another place, if you preffer like that. The balcony from my room is very large and has a confortable sofa. - the smaller one got up. - And it is the most colorful place in the house.

Harry insisted that it was alright, but, after a feel minutes, got convinced. He was guided by the painter into a large room, full of posters of 90's bands and paintings from someone Harry did not knew. He touched one of the paintings.

-Do you like Van Gogh, sir? - Louis asked, while opening the glass door that would give them access into the balcony.

-He was never presented to me... But it is so pretty? - Harry spoke, in a tone of voice he never actually used at home. - Oh, I adore it!

-I am happy about this, sir, all of my works are inspired by his style. - he declared. - Of course, the paintings I plan on doing to the royalty are goign to be classic, do not worry.

-Realism never attracted me, my dear. - Harry smiled, feeling his heart beating as the guy smiled at him as well.

They spent the next two hours talking while Louis had a notebook and a pencil in his hands, making a quick draft of Harry. The final result was beautiful, with irregular lines that Harry never actually saw on royal paintings. His face looked young. 

-I have never seen myself as handsome as in this painting, my dear, I hope the paintings are even better.

-It is howI see you, sir, If I am allowed to say. - Louis smiled, while taking off the paper and giving it to the prince. 

-It is a great pleasure to work with you, Louis. - Harry said, smiling, while shaking the man's hand while on the first floor again. - And it is amazing to meet you, Charlotte. Please, wait for me in two days. I will be back so we can finally start. 

The brothers said their goodbyes before Harry entered the car with Melanie. 

-So, what do you think?

-Bold. Lovely. Out of classical. - Harry spoke, resting his head in the belt. 

-I was talking about his art, Harry. - she laughed.

-Oh, it is great. - he raised her the draft. - Look at how he portraits me, I look so much more like a king.

-It is not classical at all. Did he say something about it? Will he paint like his father did? - Harry nodded.

-it would be so much fun if he painted by his way. By the way, Mel, I want you to find me some copies of the paintings of Mr. Van Gogh, please?

-Vincent Van Gogh? I don't think you learned about him. - she doubted, letting go the draft.

-And I did not! - he spoke, like if it was a crime. - Oh, Mel... My eyes have finally opened!


End file.
